The Arkansaw traveler., 1887-10-08


 the ransom from a sharp bargain, but from which none could remember having wrested an extra copper,
 "How much is it?" asked Lois in & hot whisper
 The man shuddered little at the thought of a dead mans money so soon coming into his till, but his thrift got the better of his super stition.
 Wall, used to say dollar'n fifty, but folks about here don't seem to take much to that sort O thing, an they've been lyin' around in that culch for some time. I'll call it seven shillings to ye, if ye want 1t pretty much"
 The girl plainly chafed under the old mans volubility, but without a word she counted out the money silver pieces all green and moldy where they had lain so long in her miser fathers keeping, and without a word hurried from the door. Down the street she fled, the long red rays of late afternoons hot sun searching like arrows for her hearts blood. her face now blotched, now paled with sudden feelings. Her limbs trembled with that weakness ture or maniac and her both hands clutched between them the small red book.
 Unsceing eyes and unguided feet led her along the old trod path to her lonely house, and the habit of years drew her thence to the room that had ever been her only refuge hardly more than bcdded den beneath the eaves-but her own. She was free to use any room in the house es hers now, but she did not think of that. One idea only was in her mind then. She turned the wooden button on the door. then threw of, holding fast her l treasure in the one hand or the other, l her heavy black dress, barring her nee k and arms to the cool breeze that began to creep in at the window. Her black hat fell to the floor, but her careless foot pushed it unseen beneath the yellow stand With one strong hand she drew her rough cot before the window that looked towards the west. Flat upon her back she threw herself, then, holding her dear volume 1 tightly in her hands above her head ] she laughed aloud. The laugh broke 1 at the end and the tears came. She dashed them away. She threw her l self upright on her bed: : she laughed again in the midst of her tears she ! lifted up her book, then let il fall she raised it again and kissed it ! With that kiss, the first her lips had formed in years, the old Lois Cragshaw died. The being that for twenty years had first struggled, then beat and then weakly leaned against the bars that held it, knew that it was now free No more 1 than that, but that was much ] She did not cry out. She did not faint. She did not think She hardly breathcd. but she lay back in the mingled heat and coolness and rose color of that August sunset, and let her new existence roll and rcvel and sing in her thin, sick body, till her eyes saw nothing and her body felt nothing but the power and the sweet ness of freedom.
 By and by the darkness came and covered her as with dusky down of rest, and with the darkness Lois Cragshaw fell asleep.
 All night she lay now awake and l now asleep. even dreaming the sweet and nameless dreams of satisfaction l The morning came, and with it the l brightening sense of duty and reality She arose and prepared herself for the days work that the old habit told her lay long before her. With glad heart and singing lips she began her tasks, and first almost was the prep aration of her breakfast
 l Of food she had not tasted for fully four and twenty hours, when a kindly neighbor entering the low kitchen, without tapping at the door, found before her an unusual sight. Proppcd up against a bit of blue delf was a small red book. All about were the utensils and material for cooking, and over them anxious and careful, like one who has much al stake, bent Lois Cragshaw.
 "Well, well." said the newcomer. What's all this, Lois: Ye haven't got no comp'ny, have ye?"
 Lois Cragshaw strengthened her bowed body and looked her questioner full in the face.
 "What's what?" she said "This yere?"
 Her visitor nodded.
 ! Poor Lois hesitated moment, then seemed decided.
 "Pll tell ye,' she said. "But mind ye, speak no harm O the dead and speak to you alone. For twenty years, as near as I can make ii, this ugly body O mine an what mind the good